The Long Road Home
by Allocin
Summary: On the long journey home from Gondor, Frodo and Sam slip into their Mordor ways. Some hurts are just too deep to heal, and some habits too hard to lose. First LOTR fic.


_Disclaimer: The rights to Lord of the Rings are the property of the Tolkien family, New Line Cinema, and lots of other companies that I don't know about. I intend no copyright infringement, I make no profit from this venture, and I mean no offence or insult to anyone._

**The Long Road Home**

The road between Gondor and the Shire was long, but as Middle-Earth wasn't in mortal peril anymore the Fellowship and their companions felt they could take a leisurely journey. Their horses and ponies plodded on at a lazy pace, but even if Merry and Pippin were more at ease, there were still others who were beginning to find it distinctly uncomfortable. 

"I don't know about you, Mr. Frodo, but being up so high doesn't to me, if you know what I mean. It's a wonder how Merry and Pippin stand being so tall," Sam muttered quietly. Frodo smiled softly at him and, looking at the arching blue sky above, came to a decision. 

"Let's walk for a bit," he suggested. Sam looked relieved. Handing their reigns to Merry and Pippin, Frodo and Sam quickly slipped off their ponies and settled into the familiar walking pace: quite speedy, even for hobbits, with Sam a step behind Frodo. They tramped in the grass verges beside the road to avoid disturbing the horses, and before they knew it, or anybody else had noticed, they had overtaken the slow moving train. As they stretched further and further ahead, the silence of the day encompassed them. Sam began to lean forward as if counterbalancing a heavy load; Frodo's shoulders hunched and his head drooped. They spoke not, but the air between them was filled with familiar, comfortable understanding. 

The train had stopped for a break, and all were currently resting after a good meal. The horses roamed in the grass, grazing at will. Much like the hobbits, as Pippin and Merry helped themselves to apples. King Aragorn and Queen Arwen rested with Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli and Galadriel, while Lords Elrond and Celeborn conversed under the shade of a tree. A feeling of peace and relaxation hung over their camp. 

"I could get used to this," Pippin sighed, stretching his arms. Merry picked at the grass absentmindedly. "I mean, we deserve a little pampering after all we did," Pippin continued. Merry smiled at him teasingly. 

"Me more so than you," he said nonchalantly. Pippin mock-glared at him. 

"Are you suggesting, my dear Meriadoc, that you somehow contributed more in battle than me?" he demanded. Merry nodded vigorously. 

"I am indeed, dear Took," he confirmed with a twinkle in his gaze. Pippin sat up in supposed outrage, eyes flashing in amusement. 

"This I will not have! You know well enough, cousin, that it is I that killed far more orcs than you!" Merry sat up also. 

"I disagree, O Knight of the Realm of Gondor," he declared. Pippin puffed out his chest and fought the grin threatening to split his face. 

"We shall have this decided by an outside party! Cousin Frodo! Frodo!" Glancing around the camp, the two hobbits quickly realised that Frodo and Sam had not yet returned. Frowning, Pippin to Merry. "When did they dismount?" 

"Hours before we stopped for camp," Merry said with a confused frown. 

"You don't think -" 

"We've lost Frodo?" 

The two hobbits looked at each other in growing alarm before springing to their feet. 

"Gandalf! Strider!" they cried as they dashed across the camp to the tent the King and his company occupied. Hearing their distress, Aragorn quickly ducked outside to meet them. 

"Ho! What is this?" he asked, and knelt to their level. Gandalf's white beard peeked out of the tent as Merry and Pippin reached the King, breathless. 

"It's Frodo!" 

"And Sam!" 

"They wanted to walk -" 

"So we led their ponies - " 

"But they haven't come back!" 

"We've lost them!" 

Gandalf strode out of the tent towards them. 

"When did they start walking? When?" he demanded. Merry thought hard for a more accurate time than he had given Pippin. 

"Three or four ago," he said at last. Pippin nodded in support. Standing, Aragorn and Gandalf shared a concerned look. 

"They cannot have gone too far," Arwen said reassuringly from her place at the tent flap. Aragorn nodded, but still seemed pensive. 

"Even so, away from the train is far enough." Smiling tightly down at the worried faces of Merry and Pippin, Aragorn added, "I will seek them. They will stick to the road, so they should be easy to find." The hobbits sighed in relief. 

"Your horse, my Lord," said one of the guards leading Aragorn's newly tacked mount preemtpively. Leaping up, Aragorn looked down at the company gathered. 

"Do not move from here. We will continue ere morning." With that, he put his heels to the flank and cantered off. 

"There goes the King of Gondor," Pippin murmured with pride. Gandalf disappeared back into the tent with a smile at the hobbit's words. 

Aragorn, while not riding hard, was not content to go at an easy trot. He counted off the miles in his head, growing more and more agitated as the sun sank in the west, bathing the world in golden silk. While the sight was like a balm to his soul after a lifetime of darkness, Aragorn knew he would enjoy it far more with Frodo by his side. Grassland gave in to sparse coppices, and still there was no sign of the missing hobbits. He began to suspect a darker motive, for surely no creatures of such small stature could move so far so fast? 

After several hours, his horse began to tire, so Aragorn dismounted and led him along the road. Rather than a hindrance, this proved to be a fortuitous event, as Aragorn spotted the light footmarks of a hobbit, presumably Sam. Encouraged, Aragorn jogged along, pulling his reluctant steed with him. Rounding a corner of trees, he spotted two figures in the distance, their skin lit by the sinking sun as they climbed the crest of a hill. Swiftly he jumped on his horse and cantered after them. 

"Frodo! Frodo" he called as he neared them. The two hobbits jumped and spun around, Sam going to far as to partially draw his sword. They both relaxed when they recognised who was following them. 

"Strider," Sam greeted, momentarily forgetting himself. With a bemused look, Aragorn halted beside them. 

"Are you truly so eager to return to the Shire?" he asked with a hint of mirth. Frodo and Sam shared a confused look. 

"No more than we were in the White City," Frodo answered rather diplomatically, Aragorn thought. He frowned at their saddened faces. 

"Why then did you rush ahead? Are you not weary?" he asked. Frodo and Sam considered this. 

"We're not exhausted," Frodo said as if it explained everything. Sam smiled suddenly, somewhat bitter. 

"It felt a bit strange with no pack on," he said, more to Frodo than Aragorn. Frodo clutched at his tunic as if looking for something, then smiled also. 

"I had forgotten," he said simply. He looked up at Aragorn apologetically. "We will return to camp." Aragorn nodded. 

"I didn't think to bring your ponies," he admitted sheepishly. 

"Begging your pardon, sir, but I'd rather use my own feet," Sam said. Frodo nodded. 

"Then I shall walk beside you," said Aragorn. Dismounting once more, he and the hobbits retraced their steps on the long winding road. 

* * *

_Thus concludes my first _LOTR_ fanfic._


End file.
